


Connection

by cheesebun



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: (kinda), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood and Injury, Fluff, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Near Death Experiences, Oops?, dw there's, in there too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesebun/pseuds/cheesebun
Summary: Four isn't just a Link. He's Vio and Red, Blue and Green, Shadow--but sometimes its a little hard to remember.(they need each other, no matter what the cost)
Relationships: Blue Link & Green Link & Red Link & Vio Link
Comments: 33
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The working titles for this one were "bye-bye four" (mine) and "she murdered four" (curtesy of my beta)
> 
>   
> enjoy 😉

Four loves the Minish Woods. Sure, he’s a little biased—his first journey led him here at the very beginning. He’s made so many lifelong friends amongst the Picori who live deep in the forest, but he’s sure that the others can agree with him on how _breathtaking_ it is. Their walk throughout the forest is very peaceful, Four hasn’t seen any monsters here since Vaati was last sealed away. Sunlight filters through the leaves up above, dappling the turquoise grass with gold. Small conversations spring up throughout the group and Four finds himself chatting with Wind as they walk.

“When was the last time you sharpened your sword, Wind?” Four turns the question to the boy walking at his side. He has always been curious about the other heroes’ weapons of choice—he himself never used the master sword on his quests. He preferred the sword made by his grandfather and later the swords he would forge himself. The others had all used Sky’s beloved sword at one point in their journeys but carried unique ones now. 

“The Phantom Sword?” Wind replies, gesturing towards the hilt of his sword with a shrug of his right shoulder. His expression is a little sheepish as he confesses,

“I uh, don’t think I ever have? I didn’t even use it much except for my final battle against Bellum—I used to find a lot of cool weapons on my travels!” 

Incredulous, Four listens as Wind launches into tales of raids on monster-infested pirate ships and one very forgetful pirate who was hellbent on revenge.

“She was crazy skilled at fighting,” Wind gushes. “But every time we fought, she would leave her sword behind! I swear she had crates of them somewhere, because by our last encounter I could basically fill one myself with all the ones she left in our ship.”

Four thought that Wild was bad enough, but apparently Legend was the only one in their group who knew how to properly treat a sword. Even Sky was hopeless, despite the way revered the Master Sword. He was lucky that it didn’t require maintenance, magic keeping it sharp and deadly, because Four wasn’t sure the sleepy hero had even ever heard of a whetstone. He’s about to launch into a tirade about the benefits of keeping your blade as sharp as possible when he hears a yell of “Ambush!” From where Time is leading their procession. 

A group of lizalfos leap from the trees surrounding them, cutting their line into two. Wind, Twilight, and Four are surrounded in an instant from where they were guarding the rear and the three of them quickly draw their swords while forming a tight triangle with their backs. _Group_ is a generous term, Four quickly realizes, as more and more monsters pour from the surrounding woods and join the ranks by their comrades. This is an entire _army_.

The lizalfos hop nimbly from foot to foot, trying to find an opening in their formation. They definitely aren’t monsters from his own Hyrule. They sport an assortment of weapons; short swords, axes, and wicked-looking spears much like those of the moblins he always hated so much. Their armor is dull and beaten, but it covers them well. These were going to be _hell_ to take care of.

Bored of waiting, the monster closest to Four jumps in with a squawk, breaking the tense confrontation. Its sword glances off his shield when he raises it in the nick of time, and he drops to dodge a swipe from another lizalfos’ axe. He meets eyes with Wind and they come to an agreement in an instant—they’ve been wanting to try this maneuver for a while, and now’s as good a time as any. 

With a grunt, Wind parries a blow from the striped lizalfos he was locked in combat with, grabbing the hilt of his sword with two hands and severing its head from its shoulders in one fell swoop. Head and body thud to the ground in succession, dark blood staining the grass for an instant before vanishing in a puff of light. Infected.

Four stays crouched down, tucking himself behind his shield and pressing his weight against it, angling to make a ramp. Wind spares no time at all, running up and using the shield as a springboard. His weight hits Four with a thud and he pushes forward to give Wind more momentum as the other hero kicks off, soaring through the air in a backflip and landing behind the two monsters that Four had been facing off against. Their surprise at the movement allows Wind to slash one’s raised arms off as he descends, driving his sword into the second’s body through a gap in its armor. They both collapse, thick, viscous blood oozing from their wounds, and within seconds they’ve turned to dust. 

Elation fills Four at the success. They’ve been practicing this move for a while now, countless hours of attempting to fix miss-timed launches and wobbly landings finally coming to fruition. Wind had positively _nailed_ the flip, even sticking the landing with ease. Wind turns to him with a massive grin on his face, and they run towards each other to regroup. 

Four hears Twilight shout an instant before Wind’s gaze turns to the side, his face falling. The excitement drains out of his expression only to be replaced with horror. For a split second Four is puzzled, wondering what caused the sudden change. 

Then he looks down.

In his excitement, Four’s attention was diverted from the monsters surrounding them. A small lizalfos had propelled itself forward with a skitter, driving its spear directly into Four’s gut. The spearhead cleaves through Four’s tunic and chainmail as if the armor wasn’t even there, slicing his belt in half and tearing the red and purple squares away from their counterparts. It’s almost funny—wasn’t he just about to lecture Wind about just what a sharp blade could do? This spear must have been brand new, fresh from the forge or at least a sharpening block, its honed edge making the slice almost painless. 

Twilight is by his side in a second, and Wind’s look of horror evolves into a _snarl._ With a roar, Wind runs the lizalfos through—but the damage is already done.

The pain hits Four all at once. it is all-consuming, a white-hot sensation searing through his body and causing his vision to white out momentarily. He blinks rapidly to clear his vision, but his head swims, everything around him looking like it has been submerged underwater. Dropping his shield and sword, his hands scrabble at the blade as the monster’s weight pulls it out of him as it falls back from Wind’s blow. They become slick with blood as they catch on the sharp edges, but the sting is insignificant compared to the fire burning throughout his entire torso. He is a ship capsizing under the force of a storm, listing forcefully to the side and colliding with Twilight’s outstretched arms. 

The colors surrounding him begin to blur together, and the last thing he hears is Twilight and Wind shouting his name before he hits the ground, his consciousness dropping with him.

* * *

Stone walls greet Link as he crosses the threshold into the sanctuary, final element in hand. It had taken a while to banish the chill that had penetrated his skin in the Palace of Winds and the cool room only helps the shivers resurface. He hesitates for too long before the pedestal and Ezlo hops impatiently in place from his perch on Link’s head, pecking him in the forehead to propel him forward. Tugging petulantly on the bottom of the cap, Link steps up to the final remaining platform. Collecting the wind element was a long time coming, and the satisfaction he felt as he placed it on the stand was immeasurable. 

Link walks up to the sword’s pedestal, heart shaking with anticipation. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting to happen when he infuses the final element into the Picori Sword, but something tells him things weren’t going to be the same after it. His hands shake as he places the sword into its slot in the pedestal, and he’s forced to cover his eyes as the elements begin to glow, beams of light focusing on the sword as it resonates with power before him.

 _Finally_ , after weeks of travelling back and forth across Hyrule, struggling through countless temples, and fighting hundreds of monsters; Link finally holds the Four Sword in his hands.

 _The Four Sword_. The name carries a promise, an untold power hidden within. Link wants to unlock it, wants to spend hours analyzing the master craftsmanship that went into making this sword, but he doesn’t have time. Zelda is still trapped, cursed by Vaati and his dark powers, and it's up to him to help her.

He goes to the final room that the sword’s completion has unlocked, and Vaati appears when he and Ezlo discover that _Zelda herself_ is the missing piece containing the lightforce. It is only out of sheer willpower that he can drag himself off of the floor after Vaati’s powers knock him out. All he wants to do is curl up in a ball and hide, because this wasn’t just a fun adventure anymore. The fate of all of Hyrule was on _his shoulders_ , his barely cleared 11 years old shoulders. But despite the fear making his entire body shudder, he straightens himself up and goes back into the main room of the sanctuary. 

Link makes his way over to the colorful tiles that allow him to harness the powers of the elements, sword charging up with energy. He steps over the four tiles in succession, balls of light remaining on each one as he steps away. Something resonates deep in his soul as the ghostly duplicates form, springing into existence with a deep, bellowing chime. It’s enough to give him pause, the feeling breaking through the anxiety that was trying to overcome him. He has made doubles before, but somehow having _four_ feels different. Every other duplicate made seems like it was simply build-up to this moment, the anticipation he had been feeling since he walked into the sanctuary coming to a head.

It’s almost as though a final puzzle piece has found its home snug in his mind, filling in a space he didn’t know was empty. His breath catches in his throat as they meet eyes, and Link feels like he has reunited with long-lost family. The copies are him but not, mirroring his every move but varying in their facial expressions. Mesmerized, Link can’t stop drinking it in. _I’ve been waiting for this_ , something in his mind screams, but he isn’t quite sure what _this_ is. 

He’s broken out of his reverie when the copies fizzle away in a shower of sparks, and only then does he feel the exhaustion in his bones from the depletion of his magic. He must have been zoned out for quite some time if his magic had drained that much, and Link is shocked to notice Ezlo on the ground before him, staring in concern.

“Are you back with me, little hero?” Ezlo’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, lurching forward as Link stumbles from the dizziness caused by the effort of keeping the duplicates for so long. He wouldn’t have been able to do anything if Link had fallen, but the motion only serves to show how worried Ezlo is.

“I’m fine,” Link tries to reassure him, pulling a magic potion from his bag and chugging it without a second thought. Now that he has this sword, he can finally go to Zelda and free her. Determined, he puts the now-empty bottle back into his bag and steps back into the tiles. 

(If he lingers a little longer than he needs to once again before letting the copies dissolve, well, neither of them make any comments. 

It won’t be until years later, when he is no taller than now but certainly ages wiser, that they remember this encounter and understand why it felt so important.)

* * *

“I missed you guys so much!” Red’s voice is muffled from where his face is smushed up against Blue’s side, but he doesn't let go, content to just hold on. The four of them had just returned from separate trips that took them far apart, checking on the Minish communities in each corner of Hyrule. This time, Red won their draw and got to visit Hyrule Town, the close proximity meaning he had returned home first. He had met them each at the door, yanking them into a suffocating hug as soon as they crossed the threshold. Green, now free from his own hug of death, was collecting their swords and passing them around so they could merge back together. 

He meets some resistance when he gets to Red. The fire-wielder takes one look at the sword and shakes his head, throwing himself onto the bed with a “Let’s do it later!”. The others call out in protest at his actions, but Red ignores them. 

“Come on, Red,” Vio tries to coax the other up, exhaustion coloring his voice. They had only been out and separated for a couple of days, but everything is just so _draining_ when they aren’t whole. His head is throbbing, and he doesn't want to drag this out any longer.

“We can nap when we’re one again” Vio attempts to reason once more, but he can tell that the allure of a soft bed and the presence of the others is pulling Blue and Green in. They keep looking between their swords and where Red is splayed out on the mattress, face stubbornly turned into the pillow, and Vio knows it's only a matter of time before they cave in. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, Vio would prefer to just collapse on the bed beside Red and sleep the last few days’ stresses away—but Red wasn’t the only stubborn one. Vio has set his mind on his goal, and he isn’t budging until the four of them are one once again.

With a shrug, Green drops his sword and flops onto the bed next to Red. He doesn't even spare a glance at Blue’s scandalized look when the sword hits the ground with a clatter, too busy making himself comfortable. 

Red sighs happily and immediately latches on to his brother like an octoroc, his arms wrapping around Green’s waist and head coming to rest against his side. They look positively idyllic resting there, and Blue can’t resist taking his place on Green’s left side. He flops face-first onto his stomach and shuffles to lay his head on Green's torso just above Red’s interlocked arms, Green’s arm immediately coming around to rest on his back. 

Vio sighs dramatically, something that is more for show than out of any real irritation at his brothers, and places his Four Sword back in its sheath before leaning it and Red’s _gently_ against the wall. He walks over to the bed, picking the blanket up off the ground as he nears it. The others hadn’t even thought to grab it off the dusty floor before creating their cuddle pile. Honestly, it was typical of them to not think ahead, but Vio couldn't feel anything but fondness as he tosses one end of the sheet into the air, fanning it out and allowing it to settle over the three in the bed. Vio situates himself behind Red, hugging the other towards him and burrowing his face into his brother’s hair. His addition completes the pile, and all the tension immediately leaves their bodies as though something has clicked into place. 

Staying separated is hard but staying together for too long is hard as well. Staying separated always leaves them with a hollow kind of anxiety in their chests, like a vital part of their hearts are missing. The absence of the other voices, usually a reliable, steady presence as part of their system, always takes its toll. They’re used to being able to chat with each other and losing the running commentary they’ve all gotten accustomed to causes constant headaches.

They didn’t always like to reform immediately after they reunite, preferring to collapse bonelessly against each other and just drink each other’s presences in for a while. It’s a regular occurrence for Link’s grandpa to come home from selling their wares in town only to find four of him asleep in bed instead of one. 

It’ll be quite a while before any of them budge even a little, content to soak in the warmth under the blankets and the solid comfort of their brothers by their side. 

* * *

Four comes to with a gasp, and everything hits him in a rush of sensation. He’s still on the ground, but someone has propped him up on his side. Blood oozes past his lips and trails down his cheek, joining the steadily growing puddle beneath him.

He stares in fascination at the red staining the turquoise grass, the contrasting colors leaving vibrant afterimages superimposed over everything he sees. His tunic has been overwhelmed with red as well, the remaining colors hidden under a stain with darkening edges. Every shallow breath he takes is a challenge, his heavy lungs feeling as though they have been filled with liquid.

Looking blearily past where his numb arms are splayed before him to where the Four Sword is abandoned just out of reach, Four tries to focus his aching eyes on the enchanted sword. The pristine blade shimmers innocently in the sunlight that filters through the canopy as if to mock him. He hadn’t slain a single monster before taking that hit, and the spotless blade was testament to that. 

He wonders where his travelling companions are and gets the answer in the form of the clashing of blades and grunts from hero and monster alike as the fight continues to rage around him in a whirlwind of noise. Something inside him yells at him to grab it—He needs his sword. He doesn’t know why, but he _needs_ his sword. Blinking away the tears of pain that form from the movement, Four reaches over.

The regret is instantaneous. 

His abdomen doesn’t even exist anymore, all that remains is a howling void of screeching pain and what must be some sort of hellish creature clawing its way out of his body, puncturing his insides and tearing his skin apart. But he keeps moving millimeter by millimeter, hair falling into his face and obscuring his view of his goal. The sword is _right there_ but it couldn’t feel any further away right now, his movements slower than a drop of molasses teasing its way out of the jug. Even the tiny movements send his vision swirling and he slumps onto his elbows, spent. 

Blood bubbles into his throat. He wants to cough, wants to clear some of the liquid filling his airways but he _knows_ that it would be a mistake. His body doesn’t listen, however, and the convulsions rip through him with a vengeance. The motions send blood gushing past his lips with a wet squelch and fire burning through his lungs and stomach, bringing the pain to a fever pitch and almost propelling him back into oblivion. 

He falls onto his back and stares up at the sky, the abandoned action taking all the energy that he could muster. Dried blood sticks to his hands, his cheeks, his chin; it pulls at his skin every time he moves. Through the ringing in his ears Four can hear the battle come to a close, several voices calling his name as they run over. Two pairs of hands grab his arms and gently move them away from the wound, attempting to put pressure on it. Four vaguely registers the futility of this effort. He knows that he has lost too much blood, the once-green grass beneath him now stained a deep maroon from his various wounds. The frantic calls of _Get Hyrule— Get Wild— Does anyone have a potion??_ jumble together above him, and Four closes his eyes. He feels sluggish but wonders—what would happen if he just let go? A terrible, harrowing, thought comes to him just then in a moment of complete clarity: _I am going to die here_. It is followed by a second, louder and more frantic thought— _I can’t do this alone_. 

It is then that his addled mind finally makes the connection—he needs his brothers by his side.

This second thought is what spurs him into action, fighting past the hands that try to hold him down and reaching once again for his sword. His hand feels cold and detached from the rest of his body, and he follows it with his eyes just to make sure that it is actually moving, even as the rest of his body revolts against the movement. 

Gripping the sword is difficult, pain lancing up his wrist from the deep cuts in his palms. But he fights through it, feeling the surge of magic as soon as his left hand circles the hilt.

A flash of light envelops him in its warmth, filling his veins with just enough strength to clutch his brothers to him as they appear in the transformation. The four pass out together to the sound of their companion’s alarmed cries, only this time, they aren’t alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m totally bending the four sword forging scene for my own benefit but its my fic and i can change it if i want to sdkjfh
> 
> This may get continued as one of my linktober prompts bc I know what happens next!! I will update here with the chapter number if it goes well ♥️
> 
> (it's chapter 6, [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743138/chapters/65610796)!)


	2. Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The colors stick together, in life or in death.

Ty for waiting! the next chapter is chapter 6 of [linktober prompts here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743138/chapters/65610796)


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